Too Far Gone - The Aftermath
by CrossMyHearts
Summary: With the prison lying in ruins in the aftermath of the Governor's attack, the survivors find themselves scattered in the wilderness, with no idea if the others have made it out of the prison alive or not. Beth and Daryl must rely on each other if they hope to survive and find the others. Beth x Daryl. Disclaimer: The Walking Dead and all associated characters belong to AMC, not me.
1. Chapter 1

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**This is my first time uploading a fanfiction, and it's also my first Beth x Daryl fanfiction that I've ever written, so if you guys want to leave reviews or comments, that would be great! :) I will be updating this story at least once a week, possibly more frequently than that; it all depends on if school is nice to me or not. I hope you guys enjoy the story!**

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Beth came sprinting out of the prison, her breathing rapid. Her eyes were wild, bloodshot from her weeping; her tears had left streaks through the grime on her cheeks. She stopped in the middle of the yard, looking around quickly; she couldn't see anyone, and it looked like the bus had left. Where was Maggie? Surely she wouldn't have just left without her. Beth turned, her boots thudding loudly against the cracked pavement; around her, Walkers snarled and snatched at her, but she managed to evade the wild grabs they made.

An explosion drew her attention towards her right; struggling to catch her breath even as she continued running, Beth rounded a corner to find Daryl with his crossbow aimed at the man who had been driving the tank. She flinched as he shot an arrow into the man's chest, and was certain it had pierced his heart; Daryl turned towards her as she ran up, his crossbow already raised and ready to fire again.

"I was tryin' to find the kids to get them on the bus." she told him breathlessly, by way of an explanation for his bewildered expression. He had flecks of blood on his cheeks, but didn't seem aware of this fact; that, or he simply didn't care. He regarded her solemnly, while Beth's eyes couldn't help but flicker to the Walkers surrounding them, her heart pounding anxiously in her chest.

"We gotta go, Beth. We gotta go." he insisted. With one last glance cast over her shoulder towards the prison, she nodded ever-so slightly; he stooped and yanked his arrow free from the man's chest with a grunt of effort, and the two of them turned and raced off the lot, soon vanishing into the shelter of the forest that surrounded the place they had called home for so long.

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Beth walked along slowly in Daryl's wake; the older man had barely said five words to her after they had fled the prison, but she wasn't all that surprised. He had never been much of a talker, not really; the man was an enigma to basically everybody at the prison. No one, besides Carol of course, had seemed that close to him; although people had speculated that he and Carol had been a thing, there had never been a confirmation of any sort of relationship between the two.

She couldn't help but feel a little guilty; she should be mourning the loss of her father, but she knew right now was not the best time. They all had jobs to do, right? Well...they had. Before the Governor came in and destroyed everything they had worked so hard for. She could feel her heart begin to pound faster and harder in her chest at the thought of that man; hot tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them away furiously. Everybody thought of her as a kid and nothing more, so she certainly wasn't going to cry in front of Daryl; not here and not now.

"You okay back there?" Daryl said suddenly, almost as though he had picked up on her thoughts; Beth glanced up sharply. He wasn't even looking at her; in fact, his gaze was focused intently ahead, his crossbow held in both hands at the ready. She studied the wings on the back of his vest intently, trying to distract her mind long enough to answer him. She didn't want her voice cracking when she responded.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she answered shortly, not trusting her voice to reply with more than those three words. She found it odd that they hadn't yet come across any Walkers; but then, they were likely all on their way to the prison by now, what with all the noise they'd made. She lowered her gaze from the man's back to the ground before her, kicking a few crumpled, damp leaves aside.

The road they were walking on was quite narrow, the pavement cracked and broken, potholes littering the surface. Leaves and trash were scattered everywhere, and ahead, she could see a Walker lying in the middle of the street; its head had been smashed in, and its brains were splattered across the ground. She crinkled her nose in disgust as they reached in, stepping around the mess; probably giving a wider birth than was necessary.

Daryl didn't look like he was hurt, but then, that wasn't much of a surprise. She couldn't remember many times that he had been hurt, other than the time he'd stabbed himself with his own arrow. His clothes were filthy, but that was to be expected; the bottoms of his dark jeans - as they were too long - were covered in dried mud and what could have been blood. His dark button-up shirt was worn and grimy, probably soaked many times over with sweat; the sleeves were long gone, the edges frayed, but Beth couldn't tell if they'd been torn off or cut off. As usual, he wore his vest with the angel wings over the shirt; she couldn't remember a time that she hadn't seen him wearing it. His hair had grown longer than she remembered, clinging to the back of his neck because of sweat. If he looked so dirty and unkempt, she hated to imagine what she looked like.

"Beth? Hey, I'm talkin' to ya." Daryl snapped; she blinked and looked up at his face, narrowly avoiding crashing into him. She hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking, much less registered that he was speaking. She could feel a flush of color rise in her cheeks in embarrassment, and almost stuttered out an apology, when she realized it would likely be wasted on him. He wouldn't want an apology; he was all about getting to the point.

"Yeah, I'm listenin'. What is it?" she asked sheepishly; her words were contradicting, but she didn't care what he thought right then. She had a reason to be spaced out; she was keeping herself distracted, not letting her thoughts wander...

"It's startin' to get dark. We should find a place to hole up in for the night." he suggested; he was talking slowly, as though she was hard of hearing or something. She scowled up at him, not appreciating being treated as though she was stupid. Glancing around, all she could see to either side were trees.

"There's nowhere around here to go to." she pointed out; it was her turn to act as though he was an idiot. His eyes narrowed as he assessed her calmly; like her, he didn't take kindly to it. He fiddled with the strap of his crossbow, unable to argue this fact; but Beth wished she wasn't right. She didn't fancy the idea of being caught out in the open when the darkness fell.

"Let's just keep walkin', maybe we'll find a place." he grumbled, turning and walking away without waiting for her response. Beth stood there, uncertain; she wanted to go back to the prison, even though she knew how foolish that was. It would be overrun by now. No, there was no sense in looking back; so she jogged to catch up to him, and took to walking at his side this time, feeling much safer in his presence.

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In their walking, they had come across a pathway that cut through the woods; it was more narrow than the road, just two thin dirt treks through the grass. It looked as though it had been used for four-wheelers at some point, but now the grass in the middle had grown so long that Beth couldn't even walk in it because it was past her waist. She took to the left track while Daryl walked the right one; her gun had long since run out of ammo, so she kept her knife clutched tightly in one hand. She would occasionally sneak glances at the man walking at her side; he was so intently focused on the path ahead of them, his steps silent and his aim with his crossbow never wavering. She felt obnoxiously noisy compared to him; it seemed every step she took, a twig snapped or she kicked a loose rock, sending it skittering off into the brush.

Beth's stomach rumbled noisily and she felt heat rise into her cheeks once more, quickly placing a hand over her mid-section and glancing over at Daryl again. She thought she saw his eyes flicker in her direction, but she couldn't be sure; and she averted her gaze to avoid further embarrassment. To be fair, she hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, and after getting used to having regular meals every day, her stomach was bound to protest at this new development. As she mulled this over, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, and instinctively turned towards it.

"Daryl, look." she said, lifting her hand from her stomach to point.

A tiny cabin sat a few feet off the path they were walking along. It looked more like a hut than anything else, and the little walkway that led up to it had overgrown ages ago. It looked to be a one-room house, and certainly only had one floor; three rotten wooden steps led up to the front door, a simple fixture with one of the four glass panes it possessed smashed in. The windows were covered in dirt and dust, so thick that she could've drawn in it if she'd wanted to; they weren't boarded up though. The place looked as though it had been deserted even before everything went to shit.

Daryl lifted one hand to press a finger against his cracked lips, before stepping soundlessly over to her side of the path and then making his way up towards the cabin; Beth trailed along in his wake, sneaking nervous looks towards the woods that pressed in uncomfortably close on either side. The sun had begun to sink further towards the horizon, casting long shadows that danced in the wind, creating false images of movement in the trees packed so densely together. When they reached the cabin, Daryl crept up the stairs to the tiny porch, crouching slightly to peer through the shattered pane.

"It's empty." he confirmed, reaching for the doorknob. The door opened without complaint, despite an obvious lack of use; glass crunched beneath the soles of their shoes as they stepped into the tiny house.

It was indeed a one-room structure, unless one counted the miniscule washroom. The floor was hardwood, though it was nearly invisible beneath mounds of trash and discarded things; the walls had not been painted, and had only been white drywall, which was now chipped and beginning to fall apart. Very little light managed to penetrate the grime that coated the windows, though Beth soon spotted a heavy metal flashlight lying on the floor. She crouched down and picked it up, testing the switch; the light flickered a few times before it struggled into existence, illuminating the rest of the cabin.

To the right of the door, a long counter ran the length of the wall; and at the end, tucked into the top right-hand corner of the room, there was a small fridge. The door to this lay ajar, and the light had given out long ago; the interior had been picked clean, likely by scavengers. The cupboards looked as though they had remained untouched, which made her a bit hopeful. In the top left-hand corner of the room, there was a narrow cot with a stainless steel frame, a lumpy mattress, no pillows, and two thin, moth-eaten blankets; there was a small wooden nightstand next to the bed, holding a lamp and a book that had been read so many times that she couldn't even make out the title on the worn cover. There was a plush armchair in the corner closest to the door to the left, covered in a floral print; some of the cover had been torn away, to allow some of the yellowed stuffing to fall out onto the floor. In the very middle of the opposite wall, there was a door that led into the bathroom; most of the space was occupied by a tub, which Beth assumed had been white at one point but was now yellow with filth; there was also a toilet and a sink, with a medicine cabinet above it.

"This will do." Beth said; she didn't have high standards, and was all too pleased to have a somewhat-safe place to stay for the night. Daryl moved aside and closed the door behind them; he didn't bother to lock the door. It wouldn't do much good against people, who could simply reach through the broken pane and unlock it; and Walkers couldn't open doors. He glanced around the room before making his way over to the tiny kitchen, crouching down and opening one of the cupboard doors, the one directly under the sink. She watched him, a bit curious about what he might be looking for; when he came back out, he was holding a small lantern with an LED light. He moved to settle the lantern on the bedside table, pressing a small red button on the device; it, too, flickered a few times before it came to life, shedding a somewhat harsh glow around the entire cabin.

"Turn off that flashlight, save it in case we need it later." he advised, and Beth immediately clicked the flashlight off. She moved over to where he was standing by the table, and he didn't move aside; she had to lean around him to set the flashlight on the surface at his back. She could not help but to be aware of the proximity; she had never been so close to this man before, and he was a bit intimidating. She quickly moved to lean away, but he caught her by her upper arm; eyes wide, she looked up at him in confusion, only for him to brush his thumb over her cheek. He brought it away bloody, and she lifted a hand to her cheek in surprise, finding a cut just below her eye. It didn't seem too bad, which was a relief, but his actions startled her nonetheless.

"I'll, uh, go see if there's any food." she said, turning hastily and walking over to the kitchen.

After a thorough search of the cupboards and their contents, she managed to find only one can of beef soup. This was certainly better than nothing, but with no way of heating it up, it looked like they would be having a cold dinner. She wasn't able to find a can opener, so she managed to pry the lid off with her knife after some determined sawing; Daryl, meanwhile, rummaged around in the bathroom like he was actually expecting to find something useful. She did manage to locate two small white ceramic bowls and white plastic spoons in a small baggie, and dished the cold soup out accordingly.

"Hey, the water works here!" Daryl exclaimed from inside the bathroom. Beth hurried over to the door with both bowls clutched in her hands; peering around the door frame, she found Daryl had been tinkering underneath the sink and now there was water running out of the faucet. She never thought she'd be so happy to see running water!

"That's great! Oh, I found some soup. The stove doesn't work but it's already pre-cooked and everything, so I figured it's better than nothin'." she said, smiling as she held a bowl out to him. She had given him more than her, naturally; he was much bigger than her and she assumed that meant he needed more food than she did. He gave her an odd look before taking the bowl, and she took this as a silent thanks; before moving to settle onto the edge of the bed. It was hard and uncomfortable, and she could feel nearly every spring; but it was still a bed. Daryl took a seat in the armchair, after swiveling it towards her; laying his crossbow over his lap as he dug into the food.

"I'm sorry 'bout your dad." Daryl said halfway through his soup. Beth felt her fingers clench around her spoon; blinking a few times to clear the sudden tears away, she saw the crimson blossoming on the collar of Hershel's shirt yet again.

"Thanks." she mumbled, turning away slightly; and they lapsed into silence yet again.

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A few hours later found Daryl and Beth bickering over who would sleep where. Beth insisted that he take the bed, but he wouldn't hear of it; though he didn't seem to be able to come up with any good reason as to why she absolutely had to have it. Eventually, tired of the arguing, Beth simply gave up and threw herself onto the bed; balling up one of the blankets, she hurled it at him before she rolled over to face the wall.

She heard the creak of the springs as Daryl lowered himself once more into the armchair, and the rustling of fabric as he spread the blanket over himself. Even the sound of his heavy crossbow as he set it down on the floor. She peeked over her shoulder to see him tying the strap around his wrist, before quickly rolling back over, not wanting him to think she was spying on him.

Long after Daryl had slipped away into an uneasy sleep, Beth found herself still lying awake in the bed. Not only could she not get comfortable, but every time she dared to close her eyes, she saw Michonne's sword as it swung in an arc down towards Hershel's neck; which always brought her out of her half-asleep state with a shock. Too restless to lie still any longer, she pushed herself upright; and Daryl's vest slipped down off the end of the bed to land with a quiet thump on the floor. She stared at it, bemused; she hadn't even noticed the man had taken it off. He never took it off. Turning to look at him, she confirmed this; he was slumped over in the armchair, snoring softly with one hand curled around the strap of his crossbow. A muscle in his arm twitched as his hand clenched; clearly he was dreaming. She smiled at this thought, before leaning down and grabbing the vest from where it had fallen to the floor. The fabric was rough under her fingertips, and she turned it over in her hands to trace the outline of the angel wings on the back, before laying it back down on the bed.

It seemed that another hour passed, to find Beth still lying awake in bed; her knife was set on the bedside table, next to the lantern, which Daryl had switched off before taking the armchair. Her gaze landed on the vest again; she could feel the weight of it pressing against her leg. With a soft sigh, she turned around in the bed and pulled her blanket up over herself again, so that her head was resting near the foot of the bed, next to the vest. After a pause, she scuttled a bit closer to it and laid her head against the fabric; Daryl's scent clung to it, a sweet and sour sort of mix - his usual, pleasant scent combined with the foulness of sweat and dirt. She didn't mind it; actually, it quite relaxed her. She found her eyes drifting shut with ease, and instead of the images of her daddy to haunt her mind, she found her mind wandered to Daryl as she slipped off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

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**So here's chapter two, guys. I'm thinking of writing chapter three from Daryl's point of view but I'm not sure yet. If you want to send me in a review and let me know what you think of the story so far and your opinion on the whole Daryl's point of view idea, then that would be great! :) Also, thanks to all the people that have read the story so far, and those who have reviewed and added it to their favorites. It means a lot! I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as I can. :3**

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Beth opened her eyes to the warmth of sunlight, surprised to find that her cheeks were damp. She wiped the back of her hand across her face to dry the tears that had fallen in her sleep, before sitting up; only to find that Daryl was no longer in the chair. A quick glance around the cabin showed her that the lantern was gone from the bedside table, and the door to the washroom was closed; his crossbow was still lying on the floor, so she assumed that he had just gone into the bathroom. A blush rose in her cheeks as she realized that he must have seen her sleeping with his vest and she quickly pushed herself up and out of bed, refusing to be caught awake and still laying with the clothing item.

She spent a few minutes pacing around the room, uncertain of what to do; in one of her circuits, she paused by the door, stooping to peek out through the broken pane. There weren't any Walkers around, thankfully, but there was something a few feet off the path; she squinted, and realized that not too far into the woods, there was a bush laden with ripe blackberries! Unable to contain her excitement, she eagerly pulled the door open, stepping outside; the air was fresher outside than it was in the house, and although it had been cool overnight, it was beginning to warm up again as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Leaves rustled beneath Beth's worn cowgirl boots as she quickly made her way down a gently sloping hill; a few tree branches scraped against her exposed arms as she ducked into the woods. She knew she would still be visible from the doorway of the house, and therefore hoped that Daryl wouldn't be too angry at her for leaving; but she just couldn't resist. She could remember a time when she was a child, out in the fields with her daddy and Maggie. They'd gone to pick blackberries with their little plastic pails in hand and found far more than they could carry. She hadn't had berries since all this started to happen.

Beth reached the bush and began to pick the largest, juiciest-looking ones she could find, and soon had a handful of them cupped against her chest. She was sure Daryl would be thankful, too; a dinner of cold soup wasn't exactly the greatest, and fresh berries were always so sweet. Just as she turned, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye; before she could even so much as turn back, a hand had shot out of the bush to clench tightly around her ankle. Beth shrieked as she was yanked down onto the ground, landing hard on her stomach on the ground; narrowly avoiding smashing her face off a large rock in the process. The berries squished against the palm of her hand, staining her skin purple, as she flung her hands out in an attempt to stop her fall.

Rolling onto her back, Beth watched as a Walker began to crawl out of the bush. It was a man, and in life he must have been horribly skinny; now, he was mostly bones and decaying flesh, his teeth crimson with dried blood. He snarled at her, rotting yellow eyes focused blearily on her face; she screamed again as she struggled backwards, instinctively reaching for the knife she always kept at her hip. It wasn't there; she cursed herself silently for taking the weapon and leaving it on the nightstand. How could she be so stupid?

There was a twang, and an arrow shot over Beth; implanting itself directly between the Walker's eyes. Blood splattered as the creature went limp, its grasp on Beth loosening. Breathing hard, she scrambled back away from it until her back hit a tree, and she turned her head to find Daryl standing on the doorstep, crossbow in his hands. He stared at her for a long moment, and she could see, even at this distance, his eyes as they assessed her, searching for any wounds. After a few moments, he came down the steps and stopped at her side.

"What the hell are you doin' out here?" he growled, reaching down and grabbing ahold of her upper arm. He jerked her to her feet, studying her more closely this time as she tried to catch her breath. She then lowered her gaze and began wiping the berry juice off of her hand.

"I was gonna surprise you. I found some berries." she mumbled, looking back up at him; his entire expression was disbelieving, and eventually he snorted as though something was funny. Shaking his head at her, he stomped over to the Walker and ripped the arrow out of its head, a little more violently than was necessary.

"Next time, don't be so damn stupid." he snapped, before stalking back into the house. Beth stood there for a few moments, trembling, before she followed him back into the hut; leaving the berry bush untouched this time.

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A few hours later found Beth and Daryl getting ready to leave the house. After a little bit of searching, Beth had discovered a ragged grey backpack stuffed under the bed and had placed the lantern and the flashlight in it. She'd also located a small box of matches, which unfortunately only contained three matches; but had decided it was useful and had tossed that in, too. There wasn't much else in the house, aside from a half-empty bottle of Advil, which they decided to take as well. Daryl slung his crossbow over his back, waiting by the door as she attached her sheathed knife to her belt once more, resigning to never take it off again. As an afterthought, Beth also folded up the two blankets and stuffed them in the bag.

"We might want them later." she said defensively as Daryl scowled at her.

They walked in silence for what felt like ages; eventually making their way back onto a road, although Beth had no idea where they were anymore. There were still signs indicating which way to go if you were headed to the prison; and even signs warning that hitchhikers could be escaping inmates. The thought of this made her laugh; in a way, they were now escaped inmates, weren't they? Daryl gave her an odd look as the giggle bubbled up out of her, and she quickly quieted the noise; she didn't want him to think she was going crazy or something.

Soon they came across a small town; it wasn't exactly what one would call a safe neighborhood, and its state had only deteriorated when the infection broke out. Many of the houses were abandoned; people hadn't even tried to remain there when Hell broke lose. Clearly, many of them had also been ransacked; some of the doors were off their hinges, and windows were busted in. Trash blew through the street, and even as she watched, an empty food wrapper tumbled out of a house and skittered across the road, before getting caught on a streetlamp post.

"We should have a look 'round here. Might be somewhere we could stay." Daryl suggested, frowning at the buildings they passed. Still, no sign of any Walkers; Beth had assumed that the one in the bush had been the previous owner of the house where they had spent their night.

They went a little ways farther before she paused to stare at the trailor park that they had come across. Many of the yards were so dead that the grass hadn't grown long; it had just dried up and turned yellow. A few of the doors were hanging open, but many of the places looked untouched. Daryl grumbled incoherently as she set off up the driveway without telling him first, quickly switching his direction in order to keep up with her; she glanced at the nearest gravel driveway, her brow furrowing as she thought about if she should go to that house. It was painted an almost sickly yellow, with the door hanging open and one window smashed. Daryl decided for her, however; shoving past her as he made his way to the structure.

The front door led them into a small kitchen; the linoleum floor was peeling up in the corners, and, like the hut, the fridge door was hanging open to reveal a bare interior. A few of the cupboards were open, but many looked as though they hadn't been touched. To the right, there was a rounded archway-type opening into the living room; this had simple furniture, a grey couch against one wall and a matching armchair in the corner. There was a flat-screen television on a wooden stand facing towards the couch and even a laptop, long since dead, still open on the coffee table. The walls were covered in a hideous floral wallpaper.

Beth walked quietly towards the fridge to peer around it and down a narrow hallway; without any windows, it was somewhat darker than the rest of the trailer. There were three doors; two on the left-hand wall and one at the end of the hall as well.

"I'm gonna have a look around." Beth told Daryl; he grunted his acknowledgement as he rummaged through the cupboards.

The backpack bumped against her waist as she made her way quietly down the hall, one hand resting safely on the hilt of her knife. The attack earlier had given her enough of a scare to make her a bit more cautious; even so, she didn't think the incident had warranted Daryl's anger. There must be something the man wasn't telling her. He always seemed a bit sullen, but now...there was definitely something different.

She checked the first door as she passed it; it was already open and revealed a somewhat small washroom, larger than the one at the hut. It was surprisingly clean; the medicine cabinet door was hanging open, but most of the stuff had been left alone. The only thing that looked somewhat out-of-place was the show curtain; the metal rod had been torn out of the wall, to lie in the tub, with the brown and white striped curtain lying in a heap and draped over the edge of the bath. Beth made her way into the bathroom, stepping onto the curtain as she did; leaving muddy boot tracks in her wake.

"Beth? What're ya doin'?" Daryl said as she shrugged off her knapsack; his voice made her jump, as she hadn't heard him approach. Turning, she saw him standing in the doorway, his crossbow slung across his back and his powerful arms crossed over his chest. He was watching her, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a frown and his eyes glittering darkly.

"I figured we could take some of the medicine here." she explained, turning back to the medicine cabinet and stretching up to rummage through the bottles and boxes stuffed onto the shelves.

"You shouldn't be wanderin' off on your own. Didn't ya learn nothin' back at that cabin?" he said, clearly disapproving. She sighed; she had suspected she wouldn't live that one down anytime soon. But she had told him she was going to look around, so it wasn't like she'd just vanished like last time.

"I can take care of myself, Daryl." she muttered, figuring he wouldn't hear. He snorted though, indicating he had picked up on her words, before turning and making his way down the hallway.

"Yeah, you did a damn fine job of that back at that shack." he grumbled, before she heard a door open and close down the hall.

As Beth rummaged through the medicine cabinet, she caught sight of herself in the mirror in front of her, and actually grimaced at her appearance. Clearly she hadn't been able to wash up lately, and it showed; her normally fair skin was covered in a fine layer of dirt, and there were scrapes along her arms from trees lashing back and hitting her. Her jeans were faded and ripped at the left knee from a few of the falls she had taken; her grey socks were dirty, just higher than her worn brown cowgirl boots. She also wore a fitted green tank top that was stained with mud and some bloodstains; over that, she wore a baggy navy blue tank top that hung loosely from her slim frame. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and a braid started in the ponytail as well. She could look on the bright side; at least she wasn't hurt.

Finding a package of bandages and gauze, she eagerly tucked that into the knapsack, as well as various medicine bottles that rattled with promise. As she did so, she heard a soft rustle; something was moving. The window to the bathroom was open, so she leaned up to peer out of it, but the yard was empty and all was still.

"Dar- " she started to call; but before she could finish the name, something under the shower curtain lurched up out of the tub with a fierce snarl. The curtain fell back to reveal a female Walker; dead eyes locked hungrily onto Beth, the decaying features twisting in a growl. Beth barely had enough time to duck off to the side as the Walker lunged for her; with a shriek, she tripped over the curtain lying crumpled and bloody on the floor, tumbling onto her hands and knees next to the toilet, barely avoiding cracking her chin off the porcelain edge.

The Walker tripped as well and dropped to the floor, hands stretched out towards Beth as though she couldn't quite see her; Beth scrambled around until her back hit the wall, lifting one leg and planting the heel of her boot against the woman's chest. With a shove, she knocked the Walker flat onto her back; pushing herself up from the floor, Beth seized the curtain and dropped down on top of the Walker, pinning her down underneath the curtain. The woman began to struggle furiously, her mouth working underneath the fabric; yanking her knife out of its sheath, Beth plunged the blade down through the Walker's forehead.

"Good job." Daryl remarked from the doorway; Beth stood up, whirling around to focus her gaze on him, breathing hard.

"Thanks for the help!" she snapped sarcastically, reaching down and forcefully yanking her knife out of the Walker. Daryl smirked and shrugged slightly, turning to head back into the hall.

"You said you could take care of yourself. Come on, let's get outta here." he said; and, with a sigh, Beth snatched up the backpack and trotted after him as they left the trailer park.

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Several hours later found Beth trailing wearily along behind Daryl; she had struck her knee on a large metal ring attached to the shower curtain when she had fallen, and now her kneecap was swollen and bruised, giving her a slight limp. Determined not to let him know she was injured, determined not to be seen as a child, she had continued on walking as normally as she could manage, her teeth gritted firmly together; resulting in a lengthy silence between them both. Again, the sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, and still they were wandering aimlessly through the streets of the ghost town. None of the houses looked promising, with their broken windows and the doors hanging off the hinges.

"What about that one? It doesn't look too bad." Beth said, lifting a hand to indicate a small house.

The one-floor building sat a bit back from the road and was encircled by a low stone wall. An iron gate opened onto the pathway that would lead to the doorstep; this path split at the bottom of said stairs, the other branch heading to the gravel driveway, where another gate blocked entry into the yard. Beth really couldn't see much point in this set-up; the brick wall wouldn't do much to hold any people out, but it would do well against Walkers. The house was small, but bigger than the shack from last night; its white paint was chipped and dirty.

"Yeah, let's check it out." Daryl agreed, stepping up to the gate; she watched him lean over the gate to unlock the latch, before shoving it open. The hinges squealed in protest and she flinched at the high-pitched sound, glancing anxiously around the street, but nothing stirred. She made sure to lock the gate again when they passed through it, following Daryl up to the porch.

The door opened into a narrow hallway, which went straight ahead before meeting a dead end; and at this end there was another door that opened onto an enclosed porch, which would then take one out into the backyard. The floor was carpet, which muffled their steps well; but Beth paused in the doorway to take in the small surroundings.

Unlike the shack, this was not a one-room establishment; to the right, there was an open archway that led into a living room. This room was small, and split down the center by a waist-high counter; behind this counter was a small kitchen. To the left, there were only two doors, both lying ajar; the one nearest the front door led into a small washroom, and the one further down the hall was the opening into the only bedroom.

"I'll go check if there's food, if you want?" Beth suggested, lifting her gaze to the taller man before her; he grunted slightly and wandered off towards the bedroom.

Stepping through the archway, Beth glanced around at the bare furnishings. Whoever had lived in this house had been pretty poor, but still better off than some of the people that had once lived in this town. In the middle of the room, there was a faded beige couch with three cushions, and a grey wool blanket draped over the back; a small wooden coffee table, stained with water rings, rested just in front of it, a magazine still lying open on the surface. Against the wall on a television stand was a small tv, the kind with antennas; something she hadn't seen in quite some time. There was also a desk in the far corner, though it lacked a computer; just a goose-neck lamp, and several books and papers scattered everywhere, spilling over the edge and onto the floor beneath it. Heavy curtains were drawn across the only window in the room, blocking out any hint of sunlight.

She made her way quietly to the counter, peeking over the edge before venturing around it. Tucked beneath the counter, there were three stools; clearly serving as some sort of dinner table. There wasn't much counter space, and the stove was gas operated, which made her hopeful; that might still work without the power, right? She understood that they may need to light it with a match, but they had those three from the hut in the woods. The fridge proved to be pretty bare when she opened the door, finding only a few containers of spoiled yogurt and some moldy cheese.

After some searching of the various cupboards, Beth found a box of crackers; a half-empty box of Frosted Flakes cereal; a full box of chocolate-dipped granola bars; and even a plastic bag of trail mix. There were also several cans of soup, ranging from chicken noodle, to beef, and even tomato. She also located a half-full box of cigarettes, which she figured would please Daryl; she immediately picked them up and clasped them behind her back in both hands, before turning and hurrying back down the hall.

She found Daryl in the bedroom, lounging back on the bed, his expression relaxed. The room was fairly small, with the double bed taking up most of the space; though there was a small bedside table with a lamp next to it. The only window in the room was directly above the bed, also with heavy drapes pulled over it; and the wall at the foot of the bed was occupied by a closet. The doors had been removed, a small white dresser tucked perfectly inside. Hearing her footsteps, he opened one eye to peer up at her.

"Find anythin' good?" he asked with interest, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Found somethin' you might like." she returned, before taking the box of cigarettes out from behind her back and tossing them. He sat up in enough time to catch it, and squinted at it for a moment like he wasn't sure what he was seeing was right. Finally, he grinned; and Beth felt her heart skip slightly in her chest at the way his eyes lit up.

"Well, thank you, darlin'." he said, rising from the bed and offering her a wink. She felt her cheeks flush and quickly turned back towards the doorway.

"Yeah, well, are you hungry? There's lots to eat. I think I can- " she started, but froze; his hand had seized her, his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist. Turning her head to the side slightly, she lowered her gaze to where he had grabbed her, before her eyes flickered up to meet his gaze.

"Is there...anythin' you wanna talk about?" he inquired; his voice had gotten all low and serious, and she tensed up at the quiet growl it gave to his words. Some people would have found it sinister; but it sent a shiver down her spine for another reason.

"No. Why?" she replied crisply, and he slowly let go of her wrist.

"Just wonderin', I guess. Now, you said somethin' about food?" he said, reverting to his usual self as though nothing at all had happened. Shaking her head slightly at him, she let another laugh escape her as she turned back to lead him to the kitchen.

_This man is going to give me whiplash._ she thought to herself.

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Night had fallen once again, and left Daryl and Beth sitting in the artificial light of the lantern they had brought from the shack. Again, they were arguing over the bed situation: he wanted her to take the bed, and he would take the couch; and although this wasn't a bad idea, Beth wasn't about to admit her real reason for not wanting to agree to it. She didn't want to be alone.

"Why don't we just, like, share the bed or somethin'?" she finally blurted, and Daryl fell silent. She could see on his expression that this was not what he had expected to hear; his brow furrowed and his mouth tugged into a frown as he tried to give the idea some thought.

"Well, what do ya mean?" he said, tilting his head to the side; though he tried to act casual, she could see the way he fiddled with the crossbow.

"We could just share the bed. I don't trust the window bein' right over it like that. We can put pillows between us or somethin' if it makes you uncomfortable. I mean, I don't care, but if you do then that's fine." she said hastily, and though the urge to correct herself again was present, she held her tongue and waited for his response. He almost looked as though he was about to reject the idea; but then understanding flickered in his eyes and she quickly averted her gaze. He knew she didn't want to be alone, she could see it on his face, and she didn't want to be seen as a kid.

"Sure. I don't care." he said with a nonchalant shrug, before heading off to the bedroom.

Beth lingered a few more minutes before she trailed along after him, to find that he was shifting furniture in the room. He had taken the dresser out of the closet and placed the bed so that the headboard rested against the inner wall of the closet, with the dresser beneath the window. When she walked in, he was just finishing shoving the dresser up against the wall, and she found that her eyes immediately wandered to the hard muscle of his arms pushing against the sturdy wood.

"What are you doin'?" she asked in confusion. He didn't reply right away, but instead yanked one of the drawers out of the dresser and dumped the clothing - men's clothes, by the look of it - out onto the floor. He then clambered on top of the dresser and pushed aside the curtains, to prop the drawer up against the window. When he climbed back down, he grabbed ahold of the dresser and began hauling it in her direction; she quickly stepped out of the way and he closed the door, shoving the heavy piece of furniture up beneath the doorknob to hold the door shut.

"You said you were nervous of the window over the bed, so I moved the bed. I figured I'd put that drawer up there in case somethin' opens the window; if it gets opened, then we'll hear the drawer fall. And the dresser can block the door." he explained, before shrugging off his crossbow and hanging it off one of the posts of the headboard.

"Oh. Thanks." Beth mumbled, embarrassed. She soon climbed into the bed, finding it to be unbelievably comfortable; Daryl propped one of the pillows in between them, but she didn't mind. Just knowing he was only a few inches away comforted her, and it wasn't long before she had slipped away into unconsciousness.

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A few hours later, Beth jolted awake with a shock; a soft gasp leaving her. Something had touched her. Her eyes strained in the darkness, and she rolled over in search of whatever was draped across her hip, only to receive an even larger surprise.

The pillow was gone, lying on the floor like it had been grabbed and thrown; and Daryl was a mere inch away from her, sleeping soundly. His arm was thrown lightly across her waist, and as she moved, his fingers clenched momentarily on the back of her shirt. She froze, her breath hitching; she didn't want to wake him, for fear that he would be angry that she was so questionably close to him. But she couldn't help but wonder if he had done this while he was awake, or if he had done it when he was sleeping.

Either way, she was going to make the best of the situation. Snuggling a bit closer into his warm embrace, she lifted one hand to rest it lightly against his firm chest; his heartbeat was slow and steady beneath her palm, reassuring her. Her eyes drifted closed once more, and with his soothing presence so near, she submitted herself to sleep once more, without fear of any nightmares to haunt her.


	3. Chapter 3

...

**Sorry about the long wait for this chapter, guys! I've been so impossibly busy with school and family and friends that I haven't had much chance to get to work on this. I've been having computer issues too because my computer is legitimately from 2002. But everything is all better now! Also, this chapter is from Daryl's point of view, and I don't typically write from a male's perspective, so if you guys have any feedback, reviews are much appreciated! Thanks, and I hope you like it!**

...

Daryl opened his eyes slowly, reluctantly; there was light that insisted he awaken, but he hadn't felt so warm and comfortable in quite some time. Blinking blearily against the brightness, he turned his head, and was startled to find Beth curled up close to his side. She was still sleeping, and her blonde hair had fallen free of her ponytail to lie splayed around her pale face, and he could only imagine what she was dreaming about. Hershel, probably. That was what he dreamed about.

Dismissing such thoughts, he slowly disengaged himself from the girl's grasp; for her arms had been slung around his torso. He rose from the bed and stretched with a soft yawn, before turning towards the door; there he paused, scowling at the dresser. How in the hell was he going to move that thing without waking Beth? After some consideration, he stood at one end and grabbed it by either side; lifting it slowly, he shuffled to the side before setting the two legs he had lifted back onto the floor. This made only a soft thump, and after a quick glance towards the bed, he was satisfied that he hadn't bothered her.

Daryl made his way into the kitchen / living room area, moving quietly to one of the windows to peer out through the curtains; a lone Walker shambled down the street, and he snorted at it as it staggered over a newspaper and almost lost its footing. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, he headed to the kitchen and pulled out one of the stools; he then realized he had left his crossbow behind, but couldn't be bothered to go back to get it. After a bit of searching, he found a large butcher knife and placed it on the counter, before pulling down the bag of stale Frosted Flakes.

Just as he finished eating, he lifted his gaze to see Beth standing in the doorway. She looked sleepy, with her eyes all squinted up as she looked at him. Her hair was messy, and she hadn't bothered to try to comb out the knots in the blonde locks. A quick assessment told him that she wasn't that hurt, though she was leaning off to the side slightly as though her leg was painful; he'd have to ask about that later, he decided. The cut under her eye was healing pretty well.

"How long have ya been standin' there?" he asked, feeling as though he should be creeped out. She smiled, and her eyes lit up with it; and slowly she shuffled over to come around the counter, and took a seat on the stool next to him. He held out the bag of Frosted Flakes - he'd just been eating them with his hands - and after a moment she took it, the plastic crinkling loudly.

"Not very long. I just woke up. You looked pretty into the cereal, so I figured I wouldn't bother you." she teased, a soft laugh escaping her as she slipped one of her small hands into the open bag.

"Hey. Ain't nothin' wrong with a man who likes his cereal." he scolded, before he grinned as well; he couldn't remember smiling so much in awhile, and it felt kind of funny. By all rights, he shouldn't be smiling at all; after all, they had lost their home, and their family was either lost or dead...He felt his smile fade as he thought about this, and turned his head away from the girl at his side.

"So, where are we off to today?" she asked curiously. He thought this over in silence, listening to the crunching noises as she ate the stale flakes; he hadn't really considered it until now. They weren't going to make it anywhere going on foot, especially not if her leg was hurt, as he suspected it was; so the first step would be to find a car. Unfortunately, it seemed every car had either vanished off the face of the earth, or wouldn't start.

"We should find a car. Make faster progress that way." he said gruffly, lifting a hand to scratch at the facial hair growing in on his jaw. The stupid stuff itched like all hell, but it wasn't like he could do much about it.

"I'm sure we'll find one somewhere in this town." she said positively; that was one thing about Beth. No matter how grim the situation, she could always find some hope. It made him feel good, somehow.

"It's worth lookin', anyways. Hurry up and finish that. I'm gonna go look around this house, see if there's anythin' we can take." he said, shoving off the stool and heading out of the room.

After some searching, all he managed to find was a lighter and a woman's shirt that he figured Beth might want. Heading back into the kitchen, he found her still sitting on the stool; the cupboard doors were open now, showing their bare interiors, and the backpack on the counter in front of her bulged slightly to indicate she had taken the little bit of food that had been there. His crossbow bumped against his back as he made his way over to her, tossing the lighter in the backpack before holding the shirt out to her.

"What's this?" she asked, surprised; lifting her brilliant blue eyes to meet his gaze. He shifted his weight, flicking his gaze around the room out of habit; he could never hold someone's gaze for long.

"It's a shirt. I thought maybe you might want it. Looks a bit warmer than what you got." he said with a shrug that feigned nonchalance; honestly, he had seen her shivering when the air began to cool, and figured she might be grateful. After a brief moment of hesitation, Beth reached out and took the shirt gently from his grasp.

"Thanks. I'm gonna go get changed." she said awkwardly, before stepping quietly out of the room.

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Daryl grinned triumphantly as the engine roared to life; not exactly the quietest car, but it was still a car, and a working one at that! Crawling back out from under the dashboard, he straightened up and wiped his hands on his pants, his gaze finding Beth a short distance away. She had been pacing restlessly through the lot where they had discovered the abandoned car, her hand never leaving the knife belted at her hip. She had pulled her hair back up into her usual style, a ponytail with a braid in it; and now, with the dim sunlight filtered through the clouds, her blonde tresses glinted like gold. His eyes wandered down a bit farther; the shirt she now wore was the same deep blue as her eyes, with long sleeves to keep out the chill of the cooler weather, and it was fitted snugly to her slender form. She sure was pretty...

Shaking his head, he scowled; he shouldn't be having such thoughts, certainly not about her. She was about half his age! Lifting a hand over his head, he whistled to catch her attention; she turned, and after a moment, trotted over to meet him.

"Car's ready then?" she asked, stumbling to a halt just a bit in front of him. He nodded, gesturing towards the passenger side door.

"Hop in. We should get outta here." he replied, clambering into the driver's side and slamming the door. He had always preferred motorbikes; but then, it wasn't like he had much choice then, did he? He still regretted leaving Merle's bike back at the prison, but there was no going back for it now. He watched as Beth rounded the vehicle and climbed into the seat beside him, closing her door securely behind her.

"Where are we goin'?" she inquired, turning slightly in her seat as she buckled her seat belt across her torso. He shrugged; he hadn't really given it much thought. All he knew was that they were going in the opposite direction of the prison.

"I dunno yet. Guess we'll just drive and see where we end up. Seems as good a plan as any to me." he said nonchalantly; he didn't wait for her reply, but instead pressed down on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot with a spray of dust and a squeal of tires.

They drove most of the day in silence, with the windows rolled down so that they could breathe cleaner air than the thick, musty stuff that filled the car they had found; the engine's deep rumble was the only sound that accompanied them, without a working radio to give them some music to listen to. Daryl drove with one hand on the wheel, his left arm propped up on the side of the door where the window was rolled down all the way; Beth was slouched down slightly in her seat, her hair whipping around her face in the wind, her head turned so she could look out her window.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she leaned forwards and popped open the glove box door; she rummaged around a bit before slumping back against her seat, and he could tell she was disappointed by whatever contents she had found. His eyes flickered down as she began to wring her hands on her lap; tugging at the random bracelets gathered around her thin left wrist. Had she always had those? He couldn't remember.

"We should stop soon. It's gettin' dark." she said quietly, lifting a hand to rest it over her stomach; he took this as code for she was hungry, and nodded his head with a quiet little grumble of consent, returning his gaze to the road through the streaked windshield.

In the end, she was the one who spotted the driveway, and not him. He had started to zone out while he drove and suddenly she had smacked him on the arm. He flinched and turned to glower at her, but she was pointing out the window and that sparked his attention. Shifting in his seat, he looked out the back window of the vehicle and spotted the entrance to the drive; he pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street, the tires bumping off the asphalt and onto the gravel side before he righted the car.

At the entrance to the driveway, the tires moved easily down onto the gravel surface, and he could hear it crunching beneath the tires as they progressed slowly. With some form of spoken consent, they both rolled up their windows, preparing for a worst-case scenario; he glanced over at Beth, but she wasn't looking at him. He glanced back out of the windshield, and his eyes followed the long driveway, which went straight before curling off to the right. Trees pressed in on either side and shadows danced in their depths, and his hand itched to snatch up his crossbow, but he knew they were in no real danger - at least, they shouldn't be, though there was that incident awhile back when the radio started acting up and they'd gotten stuck on a pile of Walkers. Of course, they'd had Tyreese then; Beth didn't look like she could smash her way through a hoard, even if he did have a hammer to give her. He snickered at the thought and she turned to stare at him oddly, but he just shook his head as he turned around the bend.

Again, there was a straight stretch, though this one was much shorter; at the end, there was a circular area of gravel that already held one car, and behind that there was a trailer. This one was in better shape than those at the trailer park they had visited previously, with a grey-blue paint coat on the outer walls. The doorstep and the trim was painted a faded red hue that was chipping; in the small front yard, there was a brick patio and a metal barbeque still standing. They parked and he got out of the car, before moving over to the patio and touching the coals in the pit beneath the grate; they were long cold, and left a smoky dust on his hand.

"Careful." he cautioned, as Beth headed up the steps to the front porch. It was a simple enough deck, with a railing and everything; wide enough to hold a wrought-iron table and two matching chairs. An old flower pot had been knocked off of it and lay shattered on the wooden porch, dirt scattered everywhere, though there was no sign of any type of plant that it may have held at one point. The step creaked as he followed her up to the front door; the outer one was a screen door with streaked glass panes, and behind that was a much thicker door with six glass panes near the top, but any possible view of the interior was blocked by what appeared to be a black garbage bag that had been strung up over the window.

Daryl slowly removed his crossbow from his back, making sure one of the arrows was properly set before he nodded his head at Beth. With her knife clutched in her hand, she first opened the screen door, which squealed on rusty hinges; then she shoved the second door open and leapt back as he hurried into the entryway.

It was very dim inside, but he could just make out the shapes of various objects, and it didn't take long for his eyes to adjust. He was standing in what appeared to be a kitchen; the floor was hardwood, and the walls were painted a deep, yet somewhat dull shade of green. The counter was tiled and looked untouched; the cupboards were all closed, as was the fridge, and nothing seemed to be out of place, aside from the layer of dust that had settled on top of everything. The section of floor in front of the door was covered by a brown mat, and to his right there was what appeared to be a closet door, and next to that, a metal trash can. Opposite the door and against the far wall, there was a large window that looked out onto the backyard, and situated beneath this was a wooden table with four chairs.

Daryl gestured for Beth to follow him inside and she stepped in, standing close at his side; he could feel the warmth of her body radiating from her as she huddled nearer to him, but tried not to focus on it for the time being. He stepped in and off of the mat, peering through an open doorway to his right that led into the living room. Most of the wall space opposite the doorway was occupied by a large window that looked out on a trampoline, which appeared mostly intact, though a large section of the net was missing; he couldn't even begin to guess at what had happened to it, though it almost looked like somebody had cut it off. The living room was also floored in hardwood, but most of the middle section was taken up by a grey rug. On this, there rested a small wooden coffee table still holding a glass of water, though clearly untouched for ages; as well as three scented candles and a stack of outdated magazines. Behind the coffee table there was a fake-leather sofa, and in the corner on the other side of the coffee table was a wooden stand that held a large flat screen television. The stand had two cupboard doors and a drawer, though none were open; behind the television, he could even see a gaming system. Dusty photographs hung on the walls of strangers, and there was a clock too, though it had died and was stuck on 3:15.

"No one has been here in a real long time." Beth said quietly; the hushed tone of her voice suggested she wasn't entirely sure of what she was saying, and Daryl had to agree. This did look a bit...odd.

"Just stay close." he said sternly, also keeping his voice low, before he turned and headed back out of the living room and into the kitchen.

The counter in the kitchen wrapped around most of the wall space, and ended with a large white fridge; and to the right of this fridge, there was a narrow hallway. Standing at the entrance, he peered into the darkness; there didn't appear to be any windows down there. Beth pulled out the flashlight and clicked it on, and the beam of light flickered to life, illuminating dust motes as they drifted through the air in an almost peaceful manner. The first door they came to led into a bathroom, and he paused in the doorway, with Beth standing just behind him. It was a relatively small space, with tiled flooring and brown walls. The white toilet was untouched, as was the bathtub; the white shower curtain was immaculate, hanging perfectly the way it had been left. The laundry was in the white hamper in the corner, and the counter held a vase of dead flowers, a small white toiletries bag, a metal cup holding three toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste, and a hair straightener with the plug dangling down on the floor. He moved to the tub and yanked the curtain aside, but again, everything was untouched; three full bottles of shampoo and a facecloth folded neatly over the edge of the tub.

"Anythin'?" Beth asked from the doorway, and he shook his head slowly before moving back over to where she was standing.

"Nope. Let's keep goin'." he said gruffly.

"Alright."she agreed uneasily.

Back in the hall, they paused; in between the bathroom door and the next door that awaited them, there was a small nook. Wedged into this space, there was a washer and a dryer, and even a litter box and a bag of litter. Frowning at this for a moment, Daryl moved on to the next door; and with a glance over his shoulder at Beth, he confirmed that she was just next to him before he opened that door too.

It appeared to be a child's bedroom. The walls were painted a bright yellow and posters of kid's shows and animals covered them. There was an art easel in one corner, with paint squiggles splashed over the canvas; and directly opposite the door, a window with yellow and white curtains that looked out on the front yard. Underneath the window was the bed; a twin-size with black and yellow and white blankets and a ragged teddy bear that looked as though it had been dragged through hell and back. At the foot of the bed was a large wicker basket; a quick flip of the lid showed them that it was filled with various toys.

He turned back and saw Beth hovering in the doorway with an anxious expression; he could tell she was worried about what might have happened to the child, and he had to admit it made him uneasy too. It sort of reminded him of Lil Asskicker, but he couldn't focus on that now, either. He slipped past her and she made to follow him, but he stopped and shook his head.

"You stay here, okay? Keep an eye out. If you need me, give a shout." he said, his gaze fastened on the last door at the end of the hall. She hesitated, before she mumbled her consent and headed back over to the washer and dryer and slipped in between the two to stand safely in the little space in front of the litter box.

The door opened into the master bedroom, as he had expected. The door was set in the lower right-hand corner of the room, and set with its headboard against the center of the right-hand wall was the queen-sized bed. It had a wooden frame and a grey and white bedspread, and a nightstand on the opposite side of it from where he stood. The wall opposite the door was occupied by a window that offered a view of the driveway, and the left-hand wall was entirely taken up by a closet. To the left of the door, against the wall that the door was set into, was a towering bookshelf piled high with dusty volumes.

None of this held his attention for very long, though. On the bed there was a woman of perhaps thirty-five years; she had long bleached blonde hair, but he couldn't tell the color of her eyes, for they were closed. Her skin was grey and starting to decompose; in the middle of her forehead, there was a bullet wound, and dried blood smeared around it. This was the same for the child lying at her side; in fact, the bullet wound was in almost the exact same spot on him. He looked to be no more than five years old, with short dark brown hair, and his eyes were closed as well. Their hands were close, suggesting they had been holding hands when they died. A few steps into the room showed him who had committed the act; slouched down onto the floor at the foot of the bed was a man of an estimated forty years, with the same bullet wound in his head, though the gun was in his lap; his greying hair nearly hid the wound from sight.

Shaking his head, Daryl headed back to the door and pulled it open enough to step through; his hand bumped against the lock on the inside of the doorknob and he flipped it before pulling the door shut behind him. He glanced down at it, and confirmed that it required a key to be opened from the outside, before he turned back to see Beth staring at him and waiting for an explanation.

"Nothin'. Sorry. Should we go make some food?" he suggested, plastering on a smile that he hoped she wouldn't see through. She smiled back, so he decided he must have fooled her successfully enough, and at her eager nod he led the way back to the kitchen.

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They had cold tomato soup with crushed up crackers for supper that night, sitting and eating in silence in the artificial light of the lantern they had taken from the shack. She didn't seem to care much for the soup, though she didn't utter a single complaint, but he still got the feeling that she had never liked that kind of soup to begin with; it was in the way she frowned at the spoon of reddish liquid before each mouthful. He couldn't help but sneak glances at her out of the corner of his eye every now and then. Her hands shook slightly as she ate, though he wasn't sure if she was nervous right then or if she just felt uneasy all the time now, like he did. She looked thinner than she had before, but that could just be his imagination.

His eyes drifted over her as they sat there in silence; he couldn't help it, not with her sitting so close to him. Her small, fragile form was slouched forwards, her thin shoulders hunched in on herself; the shirt he had given her earlier that day fit her nicely, showing the gentle contours of her slender build. There was dirt smeared on her face, with streaks through it from the times she had wept; yes, he had noticed that she was crying in her sleep back at that shack, but had left it alone. He already knew why. There was no sense in pestering her about it. Her light blonde hair was matted, though still up in her ponytail and braid fashion; a few loose strands fell messily across her forehead and into her eyes.

"What?" she asked suddenly, and he jumped; he hadn't been aware that she had turned her gaze on him, and now he felt a little suspicious. Turning away, he stirred the cold tomato soup absently.

"Nothin'. You just got some leaves in your hair, that's all." he said quickly; it was true, but that wasn't what he'd been looking at. He wasn't about to admit that to her, though. She was just a kid, whether she felt that she was or not; he shouldn't be looking at her like that. But like what? What exactly was he feeling about this girl? Surely just a protectiveness, created through guilt for her father's death. Because it was his fault and he knew it and she must've known it too.

"Oh." she muttered, instinctively reaching to find the leaves and brush them away, but he beat her to it without even realizing he'd decided to take them out for her. She froze as his fingers delicately worked the brittle leaves out of her messy blonde hair, moving only to withdraw her hand; once he'd picked the leaves out, he dropped them carelessly onto the floor, though his hand remained hovering just a little ways away from her hair. Her forehead crinkled as she frowned in confusion, watching him; and when he'd realized that he was just sitting there awkwardly, he snatched his hand away and quickly rose from the couch, none too gracefully at that. His crossbow toppled to the floor with a loud clunk, but he was just grateful he'd remembered to grab his empty bowl before he stood.

"Still hungry?" he asked shortly, stepping around her and heading out into the kitchen. Even with his back to her, he was very aware of her; he could hear the shifting of the springs in the couch as she rose, and then the quiet clicking of her boots against the hardwood floor. He discarded his bowl by the sink, uncertain of just what he should do with it, and stepped off to the side to allow her through; she slipped quietly past him and his eyes followed her as she stopped in front of the sink.

"No, not really. Should we go to bed now?" she asked, and he averted his gaze just as she turned to face him. His eyes roamed over the wall opposite, as though there was something very interesting there; but in the corner of his eye, he could see her standing far too close, with her head tilted back and her eyes focused on his face.

"Yeah, sure." he grumbled, nodding his head and making his way back into the living room and leaning down to grab onto the coffee table. Beth hovered in the doorway, watching him in bewilderment as he dragged it back across the rug that it was sitting on. After the table was out of the way, he moved to the couch and grabbed the single long cushion, yanking it up and off of the couch to reveal that the whole thing was actually a futon. Once Beth had realized this, she hurried over to help him; he nodded his head towards one side of the couch to indicate that she should take that end.

Through teamwork, they had unfolded the futon into a bed that was about the size of a double bed. It already had a white sheet stretched over it, quite wrinkled from being folded up in such a manner, but of course there were no pillows or other blankets. They tucked the couch cushion between the bed and the back of the couch to form a headboard of sorts, and then Daryl set off down the hallway, waving a hand at her to make sure that she stayed put.

He made his way down to the child's bedroom, opening the door quietly and stepping into the room, the large metal flashlight illuminating the small space. It somehow seemed more foreboding in the darkness, but that was silly; it was just a kid's room. After a quick sweep of the place, he made his way over to the closet and pulled the sliding door open, shining the beam of light into the little area. Most of the place was filled with toys of various types, but on a shelf near the top, he could see several folded blankets, homemade and knit out of multi-coloured wool. He had to stretch up to grab a few of them, but when he had gathered them up, he pulled them down and clasped them against his chest.

A light tapping on his shoulder startled him; the blankets slipped out of his arms to the floor and he spun around to face whatever had come up behind him so silently. Without his crossbow, he reached immediately to yank his knife out of its sheath, and his free hand shot out to grab the thing by the throat. Spinning around, he had slammed it into the wall before he even realized he was choking Beth.

Daryl froze with his knife half out of its sheath, staring at her in much the same wide-eyed fashion that she was looking at him. He was so close to her now that they were actually touching, but he was more focused on the fact that his hand was around her throat; very quickly, he released her, and she sucked in a breath of air gratefully.

"I was just gonna see if you wanted any help." she said, her voice a little hoarse. He slowly slid his knife back into the sheath and took a step away from her; she lifted a hand to rub her throat absently, and he moved his gaze away from her guiltily.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that. Sorry if I hurt ya. Come on." he said gruffly, reaching down to snatch up the blankets and the flashlight, which he had dropped on top of them as well. Beth took the large white body pillow from the child's bed before hurrying after him, and he could tell that even after his mild assault on her, she was reluctant to be without his presence nearby.

In the living room, he let her help him spread the blankets over the bed, and when she went off to the washroom with the flashlight, he didn't question her. Instead, he spent the time shifting furniture in the room around; he took the stuff off of the coffee table and shoved it into the doorway before tipping it onto its side, and did the same with the television stand, though he left a small opening. When Beth returned, she didn't comment on the new positioning of the furniture; but instead slipped through and helped him close the gap. It was a small barrier, and weak too; but it would keep the Walkers out long enough for them to wake up if anything happened through the night.

It wasn't until she moved past him that he realized that she had taken her hair down and brushed it out. It was longer than he remembered, framing her face in gentle waves; it looked softer than it had before as well. She headed over to the bed and sat down, taking off her boots before slipping underneath the blankets; then she rolled to face him, and he shifted his weight awkwardly while she laid there and stared at him.

"Are you gonna go to sleep now too?" she asked quietly, and he frowned; he couldn't make any sense of this girl. Why was she being so quiet? Was she scared of him now? He hadn't meant to grab her like that. He shrugged and grumbled incoherently before going over to the bed and sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her. He bent down to remove his shoes, but went still went something touched his back. He slowly turned his head to see Beth had propped herself up, now leaning close to him to peer at something on his back.

"What're you doin'?" he asked gruffly.

"There's something on...you." she said, but her voice faltered as she lifted the bottom of his shirt. He jerked away when he realized that she must've seen the bottom of one of his scars and been curious as to what it was; but felt a bit reassured that she probably hadn't seen a bad one. Those were higher.

"Hey! Get off." he snapped, rising up from the bed and turning to glare at her. She had sat up when she had seen the scar, and now sat gaping at him with an expression of shock.

"What is that? Daryl?" she demanded, tossing the blankets back off of herself and crawling over to his edge of the bed. He stepped back, feeling a bit foolish for having only one shoe on, but that didn't matter much.

"Nothin'. You mind your own business." he growled; she was kneeling on the bed now, staring up at him. Very slowly, very carefully, she held one hand out to him, palm up; he frowned at it for a second, unsure of what she was trying to do. When he didn't move, she proceeded in that same slow manner, and soon her cool fingers had wrapped lightly around his wrist. He resisted lightly at first, but eventually let her pull him back to her; standing in front of her, with her kneeling like that, she was about level with his shoulders, and he had to tilt his head forwards to meet her gaze. She looked up at him quietly for a few minutes before she released his hand and shuffled over to the side, sitting back and patting the bed beside her.

"Sit down. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that without askin' first. Don't be mad." she said softly; with her round, pleading eyes focused so intently on him, he couldn't very well remain angry at her, so he sat down with a quiet huff.

"Yeah, well, I near strangled you earlier, so I guess we're even, huh?" he said, and he was surprised that he was actually making a joke; even more surprised when Beth actually laughed a little bit.

"Sure. So...do you wanna talk about that?" she asked, with a vague gesture towards him.

"Nah. Let's just go to sleep, okay?" he replied hopefully; she stared at him for a long moment before she nodded in agreement.

"Alright. Goodnight, Daryl." she said, before she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He leaned away instinctively, but still felt the gentle pressure of her lips against his cheek, coarse with facial hair; grumbling, he turned his head to watch as she laid back down on her side of the bed and crawled back under the blankets.

For awhile, he just sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over so that his elbows could rest on his knees, with his chin cupped in his hands. He wasn't really thinking about anything, just enjoying the silence, and the darkness; but eventually, he kicked off his other shoe and pulled his crossbow over to rest it against the arm of the couch next to his head. Quietly, he slid under the blankets, leaving a respectable amount of space between himself and Beth; though he couldn't keep his gaze from wandering to the girl at his side. She was curled up slightly, in a loose fetal position, with her soft blonde hair pooled around her on the pillow like a pale halo. He watched her for a few minutes as she slept, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath; her eyes flickered about beneath closed lids as she dreamed.

Just as he was about to settle down to go to sleep, she rolled in her sleep, and he froze, worried he had disturbed her; but she surprised him by snuggling up close to his side, her head coming to rest on his chest and one arm coiled loosely around his waist. Daryl went still, gazing down at the top of her head, surprised; surely she was doing this in her sleep. Very lightly, he brushed a few stray strands of her hair back behind her ear, before placing his hand on her shoulder; he could cup her shoulder in the palm of his hand, which only emphasized how small and delicate she was, especially when compared to him. His brow furrowed as he stared down at the young woman; but soon he had relaxed, and allowed his arm to slip lightly around her small form, holding her protectively close to his side.

It wasn't long before he was sound asleep.


End file.
